“Lord of Ivarsdale, before I speak further I think it wise that we should make plain our minds to each other. Some say that you are apt to be a hard man to deal with because you bend to obedience only when the command is to your liking. I want to know if this is true of you?”
Half in surprise, half in embarrassment, the Etheling colored high, and his words were some time coming; but when at last they reached his lips, they were as frank as Canute’s own. “Lord King,” he made answer, “that some truth is in what you have heard cannot be gainsaid; for a king’s thane I shall never be, to crouch at a frown and caper according to his pleasure. What service I pay to you, I pay as an odal-man to the State for which you stand. Yet I will say this,—that I think men will find me less unruly than formerly, for, as I have accepted you for my chief, so am I willing to render you obedience in any manner soever you think right to demand it. This I am ready to swear to.”
Canute’s fist struck his chair-arm lightly. “Nothing more to my mind has occurred for a long time, and I welcome it! Better will both of us succeed if we declare openly that friendship between us must always be rather shallow. I love not men of your nature, neither is it possible for me to forget what you have cost me. Hatred would come much easier to me,—and I will not deny that you will feel it if ever you give me fair cause for anger.” For an instant an edge of his Viking savagery made itself felt through his voice; then faded as quickly into cold courtesy. “As to this which I now offer you, however, I think few are proud enough to find fault about it, for I have called you hither to be a Marshal of the kingdom and to have the rule over my Guards. Men from many lands will be among them, and it is a great necessity that I have at their head a man I can trust, while it is also pleasing to the English that that man be an Englishman. Concerning the laws which I shall make to govern them, Eric Jarl will tell you later.”
“Marshal!” That then was what the mutter in the ante-room had meant. Sebert would not have been young and a soldier if he had not felt keen delight tingle through every nerve. Indeed, his pleasure was so great that he dared say little in acknowledgment, lest it betray him into too great cordiality toward this stern young ruler who, though in reality a year younger than he, seemed to have become many years his senior. He said shortly, “If I betray your trust, King Canute, let me have no favor! Is it your intention to have me make ready now against this incursion of the Normans, of which men are—”
He did not finish his question, for the King raised his hand impatiently.
“It is not likely that swords will have any part in that matter, Lord Marshal. There is another task in store for you than to fight Normans,—and it may be that you will think it beneath your rank, for instead of the State, it concerns me and my life, which someone has tried to take. Yet I expect you will see that my death would be little gainful to England.” A second curt gesture cut short Sebert’s rather embarrassed protest. “Here are no fine words needed. Listen to the manner in which the deed was committed. Shortly before the end of the winter, it happened that Ulf Jarl saw the cook’s scullion pour something into a broth that was intended for me to eat. Suspecting evil, he forced the fellow instead to swallow it, and the result was that, that night, the boy died.”
The Etheling exclaimed in horror: “My lord! know you whence he got it?”
“You prove a good guesser to know that it was not his crime,” the King said dryly. “A little while ago, I found out that he got it from the British woman who is nurse to Elfgiva of Northampton.” To this, the new Marshal volunteered no answer whatever, but drew his breath in sharply as though he found himself in deep water; and the King spoke on. “I did not suspect the Lady of Northampton of having evil designs toward me, because—because she is more prosperous in every respect while I am alive; and now that belief is proved true, for I am told for certain that, the day before the British woman gave the boy the liquid, a Danishman gave the British woman an herb to make a drink of.” He paused, and his voice became slower and much harder, as though he were curbing his feelings with iron. “Since you have heard the Norman rumor,” he said, “it is likely that you have heard also of the discontent among the Danes, who dislike my judgments; but in case you have not, I will tell you that an abundance of them have betaken themselves to a place in the Middlesex forest where they live outlaws,—and their leader is Rothgar Lodbroksson.”
To motion back a man who was approaching him with a paper, he turned away for a moment; and Sebert was glad of the excuse to avoid meeting his glance. Not until now had he understood what the judgment in his favor had cost the judge, and his heart was suddenly athrob with many emotions. “In no way is it strange that I am hateful to him,” he murmured. “But by Saint Mary, he is of the sort that is worth enduring from!”
He inclined his head in devoted attention as the King turned back, lowering his tone to exclude all but the man before him. “Even less than I believe it of Elfgiva of Northampton, do I believe it of Rothgar Lodbroksson, that he would seek my life. But often that happens which one least expects, and it is time that I use forethought for myself. Now I know of no man in the world who is better able to help my case than you.”